by R. C. Martin
Looking at my girl, I see so much more than her tiny body, drowning in one of my t-shirts, and her damp locks, fanned across the pillow. I see more than the peaceful expression on her face, void of any makeup. When I look at her, I see the nineteen-year-old girl who barged into my life and stole my heart; I see the twenty-year-old beauty who let me love her in the only way I thought I could; I see the twenty-one-year-old woman who stood by me, even on my worst days; I see the twenty-two-year-old gift who is now, and will always be, a part of my soul.
She means more to me than words can express and I love her more than I ever thought I’d love anyone after I lost Rett. I’m not me without her. Not anymore.
I force myself to turn my back on her in order to get ready for bed. I wash the pencil dust off my hands and brush my teeth before I undress. When I go to extract the book from Daphne’s grasp, she’s startled awake.
“Sorry,” I whisper, marking her spot as I set it on the nightstand. “Go back to sleep.” She draws in a deep breath and pushes out a sigh as she closes her eyes and reaches for me. “Let me get the light.” I hurry across the room and flip the switch, shrouding us in darkness, and then find my way back to the bed. As big as it is, we barely use half of it as we usually sleep right smack dab in the middle.
I settle on my back and she curls up around me, using my chest as her pillow. “Goodnight,” she murmurs.
I kiss the top of her head before I echo in reply.
“Trevor? Trevor…” I’m slowly roused from my sleep by the sound of Daphne’s voice. “Wolfy,” she murmurs. As she speaks my nickname, the one she only uses when she wants something, I feel her hand ease into my briefs. Now I’m awake. When I open my eyes in search of hers, I find her grinning at me. “Hey.”
“Hey,” I grumble with a smirk.
“Sorry I wimped out on you last night. I thought maybe I could make it up to you before I head into work.” It takes about one and a half strokes of her delicate yet decisive hand, squeezing me just right, before I’m pulsing with an urgent need to be inside of her. She makes it hard for me to find my words as she continues to coax me with her touch. “What do you say, Wolfy? Will you make love to me?”
“Hell, yes,” I declare as I pull her on top of me. She giggles as I immediately help her out of my shirt. “Wings?”
“Yeah?” she replies, her hands trailing down my chest.
“I think I’m starting to like it when you call me Wolfy.”
Since we have a little time, I take advantage of it. Over the past couple of weeks, I’ve come to know her in the most intimate ways. She trusts me—a truth I’ve carried with me since the moment we met—but here, in our bed, it’s different. She lets me lead. She lets me explore. She lets me try anything. As she surrenders herself completely, giving me full reign over her body, her love for me strips her of all self-consciousness. She’s not shy about telling me what she likes, what she wants, and how she wants it. She’s not shy about vocalizing her pleasure.
I fucking love the way she murmurs incoherently as her orgasm builds and the way she calls my name as it bursts.
But there’s nothing hotter than when she’s feeling bold enough to take control. To watch her let loose and ride me without abandon is a vision that pops into my head more often than I’d like to admit; the image always leaving me with an erection I’m eager to relieve the second I see my girl.
This morning, I manage to bring her to orgasm twice—once with my mouth, once with my cock—before we dive in for round two. The sated look on her face when we’re done makes me feel like I’ve fulfilled my good deed for the day. Anything else that follows will just be bonus.
We share a shower and when we’re finished, I leave her to get ready while I put on a pot of coffee. I’m in the middle of making myself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich when she comes into the kitchen. She freezes at the sight of me and I stop what I’m doing as I raise an eyebrow in question.
“Three things,” she says with a sigh. “You, in nothing but sweatpants, is entirely too sexy. Like—I can barely look at you right now,” she moans. I press my lips together in an attempt to fight my grin and my laugh as she continues. “Second, the only reason why I’m not jumping you is because you wore me out this morning and I’m in desperate need of caffeine. Third, I hope that’s for me, because I’m starving and that looks amazing.”
I finish spreading the jelly before I place the two halves together and hand her the sandwich. “Breakfast of champions.”
She takes a big bite, hums her satisfaction, and I can no longer stifle my amusement. “What?” she mumbles.
“Nothing,” I say, reaching for a kiss.
She smiles at me before she frowns and shoves me away from her. “Don’t do that!”
“Do what?” I ask with a knowing grin.
“Seduce me. I have to go.” She walks around me and opens the cabinet above the coffee pot to hunt for a tumbler. I spot one before she does and walk up behind her, pressing my front to her back as I reach up and grab it. I can feel it when she draws in a deep breath and it takes everything in me to hold back my laugh. “Wolfy…”
I reach around her, caging her between my arms as I fill her mug, leaving only enough room for cream. I slide one arm around her waist as I use the other to reach over and crack open the fridge. I manage to get it open just enough to pull out the milk. She leans against me in surrender as I top off her coffee and screw on the lid. She doesn’t stop me when I sweep her hair away from the back of her neck and lower my mouth onto her skin. She’s got a love bite in no time and I smile proudly, dropping her hair back in place. When I’m finished with my playful torture, I step away from her and wait for her next move. She turns toward me, takes another big bite from her sandwich and then reaches for my nipple, pinches and twists.
“Ow!” I cry, batting her hand away.
“I love you,” she says with a laugh, grabbing her coffee on her way out. “I’ll see you at the shop after my shift.”
“Yeah, okay,” I reply, rubbing my sore nipple. Admittedly, I can’t even be mad; it was the perfect retaliation.
“Oh, and Wolfy?” She hurries back into sight but keeps her distance. “Thank you for my breakfast.”
“I love you, too.”
As soon as she’s gone, I make another sandwich and enjoy it with my cup of coffee. By the time I’m done, it’s time for me to get dressed and out the door, myself. Before I leave, I make sure to grab the sketch that I finished last night. I want to show it to Harvey and see what he thinks.
Willow and Pete are manning the front desk when I arrive. Well—sort of. At the sound of the door, they pull away from each other like teenagers who’ve been caught red handed. I don’t say anything. Instead, I wave and keep on walking. I won’t yell at them because it might be me up here doing the same thing later.
These days, we’re all fools in love.
I spot Harvey and Grace in his office and knock before making my entrance. They both look up at me from where they sit. He’s in his chair behind his desk and she’s perched on his knee. Like I said—fools in love.
“Hey, there,” greets Grace.
“What’s up?” asks Harvey.
“Hey. Got a minute?” Grace starts to stand but I shake my head, signaling for her to stay. “You don’t have to go. I just wanted Harv to see my next piece.”
“You finished? Awesome. Let’s see it,” he says, reaching for the page I hold in my hand.
“I want it here,” I tell him, pointing to the blank space on the inside of my right forearm.
“Is this to scale?” he asks, studying the image.
“Yeah.”
“This is great, man.”
“Are you sure you don’t want him to just tattoo Daphne Holloway across your arm instead?” Grace teases. Harvey casts a confused look her way before he glances down at the drawing and then up at me. I smile and shrug, unable to refute what Grace has come to discover.
“Am I missing something here?” Harvey finally asks.
<
br /> “Sweetie, do you notice anything slightly off about that wolf?” She winks at me and then shifts her focus back to her husband. “Like, her eyes, maybe?”
I see it when realization strikes. “Damn,” he mutters, looking at me once more. “Has she seen this?”
“Not yet. I haven’t even told her that I’m having anything done. I wanted to get it perfect, first.”
“Well, when you finally show her, you might as well just propose,” Grace says nonchalantly. “I mean, that’s essentially what this tattoo stands for, right? Forever?”
I open my mouth to speak but no words come out. I never really looked at it that way.
Yes—this tattoo is a representation of what Daphne means to me. It’s my way of telling her—telling the world—that I’m not the lone wolf anymore; but I didn’t think about it in terms of marriage. We just moved in together. We haven’t even talked about getting married. Not ever. Our relationship has always been too complicated to discuss the concept of marriage in conjunction with our own lives.
“Don’t make that face,” Harvey commands.
“Yeah. We know what you’re thinking,” says Grace.
“It’s not too soon,” he assures me.
“She’ll say yes,” she insists.
“Whoa—slow down,” I plead. I lift my hat from my head and run my fingers through my hair before I push it back in place, suddenly needing to busy my hands. “We haven’t even talked about it.”
“Come on,” says Grace with an eye roll. “Do you really need to?”
Shit.
She’s right.
We don’t.
As I stare at Harvey and Grace, I remember that what they have is what I want. A family. For the longest time, Generation Ink was it for me—it was as close to blood as I was ever going to know again. Now, there’s Daphne. No, not just Daphne. Daphne and me. Just like my house—our house is not whole without her anymore. The vacancy of family, tied together by more than just loyalty and friendship, it’s staring me in the face. It doesn’t make sense that, after we finally accept and embrace all that we mean to each other, we stop just shy of the last act that will bind us together forever.
It’s not just about me and what I lack and what I want, either. I remember the look on her face at that wedding, just over a month ago. I remember the way she was mesmerized by Avery and Grayson. She got swept up in the romance. I know, without having to ask, that she wants that. Not the grand wedding and the fancy dress and the big cake—that kind of stuff doesn’t matter to her. The vows, though…she’s a woman of many words. While I know that I’ll never be able to find the right ones to tell her how much she means to me, and while I know I can spend forever thinking up ways to try and show her, vowing to love her—before God and man alike—that will be as close as I’ll ever come to saying exactly what she needs to hear.
“I’ve said it so many times I’m surprised you can still tolerate me, but Daphne is your Grace and you are her Harvey. I’ve never seen the two of you so happy.”
“It’s almost annoying,” Harvey chimes in.
“Oh, be quiet,” says Grace with a laugh, elbowing him in the chest. “All I’m trying to say is, I’d bet my life that it’s going to happen eventually. With your track record, I’d say go for it now and not later. You’ve waited long enough.”
Even with their relentless encouragement and my awareness that they have a point, it still seems like a big fucking deal that I need to think about. It’s not that I don’t want to marry her, it’s just that I don’t want to mess up a good thing. What we have going now is really good and maybe we just need a chance to breathe before I start looking at rings.
“Look at him,” says Harvey, pulling me from my thoughts. “You went and freaked him out. Listen, Trev, you’ll know when the time is right. I did. Now—when do you want to do this?” he asks, holding up my sketch.
“Uh—Saturday?” I mutter, grateful for the change of subject. “Unless we can’t get our schedules to work.”
“I think there might be a window when both of you are free. I’ll go pencil you in,” says Grace as she stands.
“Thanks.”
I leave Harvey’s office and head for mine. Not surprisingly, it’s a while before I can get Daphne off of my mind. Fortunately, my day ends up being pretty busy. I have a couple consultations, a sleeve and a back piece to distract me until my girl walks in mid afternoon. I’m at my desk working on a design for a client when she arrives.
Her waves are pulled up into a ponytail, her maroon bangs swept across her forehead, leaving her dangling earrings on display. The teal shorts she’s got on show off almost all of her scrawny legs and the sight of them takes me back to this morning, when those same legs were wrapped around me in bed. She shuts the door behind her, bringing me back to the present, and heads straight for me.
“Hey,” she says as she sets her bag down. “I need your shirt.”
I don’t waste a second taking off my top. It reeks of steamed milk and I swear, if I have to wear it any longer, I’m going to puke. The look on Trevor’s face when I drop my shirt to the floor makes me smile. I never thought my small tits would ever snag someone’s attention like they do his—proof that we were meant for each other. However, I’m not really trying to put on a show so much as I’m trying to put together another outfit until I can get home and take a shower.
“Trevor?”
“Hmm?” he hums, his eyes traveling up to mine.
“Can I have your shirt?”
He smirks as he spins his chair around and reaches for my waist, pulling me towards him. “What’s wrong with yours?”
“Smells like milk. Yours smells like you, a scent I prefer much more.”
“What am I supposed to wear if you take mine?”
I reach behind him, for the hoodie he’s always got draped over the back of his chair, and drop it in his lap. “That.”
“Wings, it’s, like, eighty degrees outside.”
I give him the most pathetic face I can possibly muster. “Please?”
“Fine.” He removes his hat before reaching behind his head to grab a fistful of fabric to pull off his shirt.
He hands it over and I thank him with a kiss before unhooking my bra. He stares at me in awe and I wink at him before guiding my head through the neck. I spin the shirt around so that it’s backwards and then wiggle my arms through the same hole, pulling the shirt down so that it’s fit snuggly around my bust. I tie the sleeves into a knot above my waist, completing my shirt dress, and take off my shorts. I shove my clothes in my purse and then sigh in relief as I turn back to face Trevor.
“Wow,” he says, eying me curiously.
“Logan taught me,” I reply with a shrug. “Anyway, I feel much better now. Thank you.”
“Anytime. That was kind of hot.”
I grin at him before hopping up to sit on his desk, directing my attention to the drawing he was working on when I walked in. “What’s this?”
“Something I’m doing for a new client,” he answers as he slips his arms into his hoodie. “Her name is Teddy. I just met her today. Apparently she was in earlier this week when I wasn’t available. She looked through my portfolio and decided she liked my style. She wants to cover her thigh with a dream catcher. She had these pictures here that she wants me to mesh together,” he says, shuffling the pages to show me. “I think it’ll look pretty cool when I’m done. Hopefully she agrees.”
“I’m sure she will. I think it looks great already.”
“You can’t be trusted,” he says with a smile, sliding a hand up my leg. “Your opinion is completely bias.”
“Hey,” I gasp, leaning toward him. “I was a paying client before I became the woman you’re sleeping with.”
“Hey,” he grumbles with a frown. “I’d prefer to think of you as my roommate, not just the woman I’m sleeping with.”
“Oh! Is that right?” I laugh.
“Yeah,” he says with a chuckle, placing his hand around the
back of my neck to pull me in for a kiss. When he doesn’t pull away, I don’t either; and when he deepens the kiss, I’m happy to follow his lead. He skims his fingers down my neck and my back, gripping me around my waist as his opposite hand travels further up my leg. Before I know it, I’m in his lap, my hands feeling their way up his bare chest, over his shoulders, and into his hair as we seek to satisfy the hunger we feel after hours of separation. It’s been almost three weeks since we became a couple and still, moments like this seem necessary.
For years, we used our words to talk to each other. Now, we’re able to let our bodies converse whenever speaking isn’t enough. I can’t imagine that this will ever get old. His kiss—his touch, it makes me feel mad with love and desire. With him, I understand passion and intense pleasure. I didn’t know that it was possible to feel this happy. Contentment pales in comparison to what I am in this relationship just the way that it is.
His fingers are pulling aside the barrier of my panties just as a knock sounds at the door. Trevor groans as we pull away from each other, resting his forehead against my shoulder as he takes a second to collect himself. I bite my lip, trying to breathe deeply in order to calm my racing heart.
“What?” he calls out after our intruder knocks for the second time.
Grace pops her head in and flashes a guilty smile. “Sorry! I really hate to interrupt, but there’s someone asking for you up front.”
“A walk in?”
“All she said was that she was an old friend. I didn’t pry. I will, if you want me to.”
“Uh,” he says with a furrowed brow. “No. I’ll come up.”
“Okay. I’ll let her know.”
“Who do you think it is?” I ask, standing to my feet reluctantly.
“I have no idea.” I zip up his hoodie as he reaches for his hat and slides it on backwards over his blonde locks. He gives his jeans a tug, adjusting the slight bulge caused by the appendage I’m sure he’s working hard to calm. “Come on,” he says, lacing his fingers with mine.
As we make our way down the hallway toward the front, I can hear Grace making small talk with the woman who asked for Trevor. At the sound of her voice, he slows his pace. I look over at him in question, but his eyes are anxiously waiting for the chance to see this old friend. Since he doesn’t say anything, I am not sure what to expect, and then I see her. I see her and I know. I’ve never laid eyes on her before, not even in a picture, but I know who she is. When Trevor lets go of my hand, my heart beats faster as I begin to panic.
